


Unit Cohesion

by purplekitte



Category: Warhammer 40.000
Genre: Drunk Sex, Group Sex, Imperial Guard, M/M, Space Wolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-17 16:51:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9334124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplekitte/pseuds/purplekitte
Summary: Prompt: So… space-wolfy-battle-brotherly-bonding just happens to involve them taking turns topping each other? (Let’s conveniently ignore the fact that in 40k, orgasms summon Slaanesh.) Group sex sessions where everyone gets pounded? A Space Wolf who has to train/mentor some Imperial Guardsmen strengthens unit cohesion by making them all line up and fuck him? Then he tenderly snuggle-fucks them right back (because macho dudes being tender is fucking hot)?





	

Captain Katai left early with an announcement of ‘Still a lesbian.’ Which was presumably true as a general statement, but Dion had no idea what relevance it had to the situation. Maybe she meant she was still really missing Lieutenant Lanka after her latest long absence. Maybe she just couldn’t hold her liquor, which was also true, and wanted an excuse to leave.

He really wished she hadn’t though, or at least that she’d taken her friend along with her. It felt inadequate and vaguely treasonous to be thinking of a Space Marine as ‘the captain’s friend,’ but it was easier than actually looking at Olin Bonebreaker and acknowledging what he was and that he was right there. Maybe he could have just passed them off as giant space mutants (don’t say that, Imperials didn’t say that kind of thing casually), but he’d seen them fight too.

The Black Wolf had been chatting companionably with Katai in his consonant-heavy language that Dion didn’t have a word of. Bad enough he’d had to learn Gothic, were they all going to have to pick up this Fenrisian language too? When someone said ‘You know how your planet got annexed by the Imperium a couple years back? Well, now this Space Marine Chapter wants it. You belong to them now.’ you said ‘Yeah, sure.’

Now that the captain was gone, the Wolf was _watching_ them as much as he was drinking. He’d lost his armour piece by piece earlier in what seemed to be a game of strip poker with the captain, so he looked less martial, but even in leathers and fur he might still be thinking about devouring them all.

 _Don’t start a fight,_ Dion prayed. _You’ll win. Don’t be a bully. Come on._ He was barely a solider; he was an enginseer, if an Epistophian engineer rather than one of those proper Imperial tech-priests. For crying out loud, this was the Pia Chiaroveggenti Auxiliary platoon of the Artillery company, the misfits and R &D department. Arius was another mechanic/scientist, Isadore played trumpet in the regimental band when he wasn’t sniping anything that got to close to the artillery, Zander was a medicae, and Vern in supply and logistics, of the guys still lying around.

Dion took another drink. Nothing could really hurt you if you were too wasted to notice it, right? That’s how he’d gotten through high school, after all.

Brother-Sergeant Olin reached over, slowly, deliberately slowly, and Dion swallowed hard in anticipation of getting picked up by the collar. Instead, the huge hand fell on the top of his head and ruffled his short military haircut. ‘Don’t be so tense, kid. We’re going to be working together a lot more from now on. We’ve got to enjoy drinking together if we’re going to fight together.’

That was true, though so far he’d only thought of it in terms of the paperwork nightmare the higher-ups were complaining about. Personally he’d rather fight tyranids with robot drones like the tau than fight together with anyone on the ground.

‘Yes, my lord.’

‘I’m not going to bite. Unless you want me to.’

Dion choked. Arius explained, ‘That translates similar to a come-on in our language.’

‘And here I thought coming on to someone was universal.’

Dion coughed a couple times, and some of the other guys broke into coughs even though they weren’t drinking anything at the moment. ‘What?’

‘Fooling around is a great way to build brotherly bonds in your pack.’ He reminded himself ‘battle-brother’ was the honorary term Space Marines preferred, it wasn’t as strangely incestuous as it sounded. ‘Want to fuck?’

Dion sputtered. ‘You’ll kill me.’

Zandor added, ‘Captain Katai will yell at you.’ It was sad that it was both true she would and bizarrely true that that would genuinely be considered a deterrent, from what rumours he’d heard of her relationship with the Chapter. Not to mention she would do significantly more than that on behalf of her subordinates, but one did not speak of such things openly.

Olin laughed. ‘I wasn’t planning to top.’

His heart skipped a beat. This was not actually happening. He had passed out drunk awhile ago and was going to be woken in a couple hours by a cold bucket of water being upended on his face. ‘Where?’

‘Why would we have to go anywhere? You can all have a turn. I can take it.’

There was a not insignificant amount of face-palming. ‘If we start screaming bloody murder now, we can at least wake up the whole camp,’ Arius commented in their native language, which very few Imperials spoke.

‘Am I totally crazy to be turned on?’ Dion asked, too drunk to think before saying that that he really didn’t mean to say it out loud.

‘I dunno,’ Vern said. ‘Consider some of the people we know, and that doesn’t even register on the scale. Maybe they’re rubbing off.’

‘Space Marines can’t be genestealer hybrids, right? I wasn’t really listening to that lecture from the commissar,’ Isadore added unhelpfully.

‘I wouldn’t not do it,’ said Zander. ‘If the rest of you guys were going to. It’s guys helping each other out when we’re in the field, not anything outside the ordinary too much.’

Everyone kept looking at him, like it was his decision. He wasn’t an officer, damn it. Also, damn the officers for leaving them unsupervised; since when could they be trusted? Who had set them up, knowingly, for that matter.

The hand was still on his head, palm curling around almost to his ears. ‘Okay,’ he said back in Gothic. ‘How do you want me?’

His chin was lifted with one finger until he had to meet pale grey eyes. The Wolf leaned down and kissed his mouth, gentle but unchaste. He parted his lips and Olin licked into his mouth, stroking his tongue with his own, and Dion had to reach out and hold onto his shoulders at that. His beard and moustache were prickly. Everything was too prickly with heat.

An arm over his shoulder held him in place like a vice as Olin rolled over onto his back with Dion straddling his chest, and there was just so very much of him Dion was hardly touching the ground. He seemed happy with the whole affair by the deep rumble in his chest. ‘See, good company, good beer, a good night.’

‘Yeah,’ he agreed, breathless, as a hand groped his ass through his uniform trousers and moved around to deal with the zipper. The huge, rough, and calloused fingers finding his bare skin felt nothing like his own hand or any other guy he’d done this with, but he wasn’t complaining.

Not at all, especially when Olin slid him further back on his thighs and got his trousers and underwear out of the way enough to guide him down between his legs. Olin had gotten some strange lube on his hand; it smelled bad but in an organic rather than industrial way, so hopefully it could be trusted, not like someone grabbing something toxic that belonged in one of his engines. He stroked Dion’s cock with it, then shifted his hips to accommodate him.

‘Don’t you...?’

‘I’ll be fine, laddie.’ He grinned and it didn’t waver at all as he was penetrated without preparation. ‘There you go.’

And damn did it feel good. He buried his face in Olin’s wool shirt and bit his lip to keep quiet. He went past strong into intensely solid, but the strength was carefully and effortlessly reigned in, so fucking him was smooth friction and heat. He moved his hips minutely with Dion to make them both groan, but let the Guardsman set the pace. Each thrust into that proffered body made his heart jump, as if he weren’t already too drunk to last long.

As he came, Dion closed his eyes and just concentrated on breathing, taking in the animal musk and the sweat that wasn’t quite right under the deeply masculine pheromones of lust. After a few seconds he realised he was still transfixed there, and scrambled to pull out and do his clothes back up and get away, which turned into half falling over and half scampering.

Olin smiled at him, not a wide grin but a slight quirk of his lips he could almost believe was affectionate rather than mocking. Then he turned his attention to the other guys and reached out an arm to draw Arius down to him.

Dion didn’t think he could move, and gave up on that quickly in favour of not blacking out. The ground felt perfectly fine under his back. He thought he shouldn’t stare, wasn’t sure if he wanted to or not, and could hear anyway and see out of the corner of his eyes, so it was something of a moot point.

He wasn’t unaware of the other guys--Zander going eagerly, Isadore looking overwhelmed, and so on--but mostly he had eyes for the Wolf. Olin looked powerful and totally in control, even on his back, and Dion thought bitterly that he’d never look like that, but mostly he appreciated the view. He wasn’t loud, but he gave a continued litany of approval and soft, contented noises when the angle must have been just right. He took them all on with the ease of an adult playing a simple game meant for children, and Dion felt more keenly than ever before the Imperial idea that Space Marines weren’t merely stronger or faster but something fundamentally other, a more advanced life form.

At some point he realised everyone else had had a turn, because Olin pulled Dion back to him, stripping him down to skin on skin again. He opened his mouth to protest that if he thought he was going to be able to go again that night he had some serious misconceptions about normal people’s stamina, but that wasn’t how they lined up.

Olin snuggled him into his chest and Dion could feel his erection pressing against his ass and the back of his legs like a length of lead pipe. With his head tangled in grey-streaked brown beard, he couldn’t look up to see facial expression properly.

It was warm to be held so closely, to be completely enveloped by another’s arms. He had always known he wanted a man like this, but long experience had told him they couldn’t be trusted. Yet here was a man for whom not hurting him must be a constant effort, and who would certainly be able to get away with it, but wasn’t. He was held strongly, firmly, yes, but tenderly.

He was hot and hard everywhere and Dion loved the friction of it and the purr of happiness in Olin’s chest as he rubbed himself against him in search of pleasure. Every appreciative hitch of breath made him giddy with the idea he had been the reason for it. He wanted to be able to please this amazing man in turn, wanted his attention and his embrace, Throne he’d let him fuck him if he wanted more than his thighs even though he knew that impulse would be getting into things far over his head. When he came, it filled the air with an animal musk so masculine he could have drowned on it.

His beard felt softer this time, maybe from one or both of their sweat. Such power constrained into a gentle kiss, by someone so totally aware of how delicate his movements needed to be, and who could have turned and ripped the head from a gargoyle with his bare hands had the need arisen. His hands were still around Dion, stroking his back soothingly, and he made a low, throaty chuckle that might have been condescending for all Dion knew but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

‘For making a mess, I’d offer you the use of my tent, if your brothers will carry word to your pack-leader if I don’t get you back before first muster.’

As if most anyone in the regiment, including Sergeant Palaiologou, all the way up to Colonel Ravenna, was going to argue with a Space Marine’s demands on his time.

‘Yeah,’ he said, even as he asked himself why him? Because of how deeply attracted he was despite everything telling him to be careful? Because he was the weak one who could be separated from the pack? ‘I’d like that.’

He let his worries and his hope this could mean anything more than this fall away, and followed with a light heart, not looking back.


End file.
